


Luck of the Draw

by sg_wonderland



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 10:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A view of SG-1 from a different perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luck of the Draw

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an episode of M*A*S*H in which the entire episode is shown through the eyes of a wounded soldier.

I’m not dragging my feet when I get to the gate room, but I’m not exactly turning cartwheels either. Not that I couldn’t; it might have been a few years since I was a cheerleader, but I’m still in great shape. No, my reluctance has nothing to do with me. It has everything to do with what I know is waiting there in the gate room.

Or should I say who?

Because standing there, grinning at my commanding officer is none other than Colonel Jack O’Neill. The SGC’s original bad penny. Everything he touches either turns to gold or goes to shit. And to hear Major Ferretti tell it, it’s usually the latter.

“Carmichael,” Ferretti gives me a nod as I roll in, “glad you could join us today.”

Alarmed, I check my watch. I’m not that late, am I? O’Neill waves a negligent hand in the air. “Don’t worry, Captain, you’re not late. We’re still waiting for my kids.” He makes a point of looking at his watch. “And they know what’s gonna happen if they miss curfew again.”

At his last words, Captain Carter and Dr. Jackson come barreling into the room, followed at a more sedate pace by Teal’c. “The fault is mine, O’Neill,” he growls with a voice like thunder.

“It was me, Jack.” Dr. Jackson interrupts. “I had a problem at the armory.”

“The armory personnel were unable to locate Daniel Jackson’s most recent fire arms test results and were therefore reluctant to issue a weapon. The sergeant required persuading.” His expression plainly says they were late because of the time he took to persuade them. I make a silent note never to give him cause to have to persuade me about anything.

We haul ass through the gate.

*

Their voices are so much white noise in my head and I struggle to hold on to consciousness.

“Hey, stop moving around so much.” My mind filters through the information it is groggily processing and decides this voice is Colonel O’Neill. “You’re making it hard for Daniel to earn his Boy Scout badge in bandaging patients.”

Dr. Jackson’s face looms in front of me and, despite our situation, he’s smiling. “Don’t pay any attention to Jack, he’s just mad because he got kicked out of the Scouts before he could earn the first badge.” He glances over my head. “Can you hold her head still, Sam?” Then his attention is back to me. “We’re just going to steady your head, so it won’t hurt so badly.” His voice is soft, reassuring and calm, as are his hands. “No, don’t try to talk,” he admonishes me. “As soon as Lou and Jack figure out how to put together that litter,” there is a definite snort from my left side, “we’re gonna load you up and head back to the gate. Don’t worry, we’re safe, the Jaffa have all been taken care of.” He nods at someone and moves to the side. “Gently, don’t jostle her head any more than necessary.”

“You’ll have to show me your medical degree, Daniel.” O’Neill snipes from out of my line of vision.

“I’d be glad to, Jack. All three of them.” Dr. Jackson answers coolly as I feel myself rise in the air. I start to take stock of my situation. My head and neck are firmly trussed up so that I can’t move my head at all. There’s a blanket over me so I can’t see if there’s any blood. I try to remember what happened but I can’t go any further back than coming out of the gate.

I stay awake by listening to Dr. Jackson and O’Neill bicker all the way to the gate.

*

As soon as we hit the gate room, O’Neill and Major Ferretti bellow out, “Medic!” in complete unison. My litter is gently lowered to the concrete floor and Dr. Jackson’s face comes into view. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Daniel!” O’Neill’s voice booms over the normal gate room noise. “Is that blood on the back of your jacket?”

“Jack, if it’s on the back of my jacket, how would I know?” Dr. Jackson’s voice moves away as I hear a gurney rolling into the room.

“Doc, Carmichael took a hit in the neck and banged her head on the way down. And Daniel is apparently bleeding from some previously unmentioned damage to his anatomy.”

“Then we need to get them both to the infirmary instead of standing here talking.” That is the gentle voice of Dr. Fraiser, her hand rests on my shoulder as I am wheeled down the hallway at a fairly rapid pace. The overhead lights make me rather sick, passing like bright blurs so I close my eyes and their voices fade away.

*

“Hey, look who’s awake.” The face of a nurse coalesces from the blob above my head. “How’re you feeling, Captain Carmichael?” I try to speak but no words escape. “You shouldn’t try to talk, you had a bit of shrapnel there, they took it out and you’ll be just fine. I’ll bring you a pad and a pen so you can answer our questions. Just as soon as I get your vitals here.” She is bright and cheerful and I can’t find any trace of subterfuge in either her voice or her manner. That in itself makes me relax.

I remember the gate room scene and one thing stands out. I grasp the nurse’s arm and mouth as best I can, “Dr. Jackson?”

“He’s still in surgery. Seems like he took a stray bullet. Here’s your paper.” She hands me the writing utensils and I start scribbling immediately, turning it so she can read. “I’ll let you know as soon as I know, how’s that?” She pulls the curtain around my bed and gives me a quick sponge bath before changing my gown. “Now, you’ll be all pretty for the guys.” 

The curtain whips open and Major Ferretti pokes his head around the edge. “Hey, how’s my captain?”

“She’s just fine, Major. It’s going to be a couple of days before Dr. Fraiser will allow her to try to speak so I hope you’re up for reading lots of notes.” She pushes away her cart with a smile.

Major Ferretti and I do a kind of sign language/notes communication in which I learn Dr. Jackson and I were the only casualties. The Major pats my arm, tells me to get some sleep and wanders out to check on Dr. Jackson.

*

 

In the time that I’ve been in the infirmary, I’ve learned more abut SG-1 than I did in our mission together. Okay, that may be because the mission lasted less than an hour and I was unconscious for a good deal of that time but you know what I mean. 

Captain Carter and Teal’c land as soon as their debriefing is done, pulling up chairs prepared to wait for Dr. Jackson. By the time they’d brought him back, post-surgical and still unconscious, Captain Carter has fetched her laptop but Teal’c just sits silently. 

Dr. Fraiser assures them that Dr. Jackson is going to be fine, the bullet had caught the top part of his shoulder without hitting anything vital and there was no need for them to linger. Both faces get a pretty identical mulish expression; at least, that’s what my Grams would have called it.

As soon as he’s settled, they draw their chairs back, looking like they were fully prepared for a very long wait.

Of Colonel O’Neill, I see nothing.

*

Dr. Jackson sleeps the rest of the day and around eight o’clock that night, Dr. Fraiser shoos off his visitors, telling them they can come back in the morning. She then proceeds to do a bit of hovering of her own, checking his vitals even though the nursing staff had just done so. I keep glancing over at him. He looks awfully pale to me, with his left arm in a sling and wires and tubes snaking all over him.

She sees me watching her and walks over to my bed. “Caught me, didn’t you? How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?”

I hold up the obligatory cards that I’d made after one too many questions. And one I’d made after they brought Dr. Jackson in.

“Now, you just worry about getting well, let me worry about Dr. Jackson. He came through surgery just fine, he’s just sleeping off the anesthesia. Once he wakes up, he’s liable to talk your ear off.”

‘Hope so’, I write on the paper. She smiles, adjusts my covers, takes a peek at the bandages on my neck and wishes me a good night before she goes back to Dr. Jackson’s side.

*

In the early morning quiet of the infirmary, I hear a low, rapid conversation. Only I realize it isn’t really a conversation, it’s just one voice and it is irritated and concerned at the same time. I’ve always been way too nosy, so I roll over, keeping my eyes closed and my ears open. I eventually recognize the voice as that of Colonel O’Neill and he sounds pretty pissed at Dr. Jackson, who isn’t answering him back, what with the being unconscious and all.

Then I start paying attention to the words and not the tone and I freeze at what I hear. My eyes fly wide open and I find myself staring at Colonel O’Neill. His haunted eyes go instantly icy before rising to storm out of the infirmary. 

I lie there looking at Dr. Jackson for a long time before I can get back to sleep.

*

“Captain Carmichael, it’s good to see you up and around.” I pull my robe tighter and let the nurse help me back into bed. Having the base commander catch you in your jammies isn’t exactly confidence inspiring. “Dr. Fraiser assures me you should be released tomorrow. I hope we’ll be seeing you back on active duty very soon.”

I hold up the ‘thanks’ card, scribbling a ‘sir’ on another paper. He chuckles as he sits beside my bed. “You don’t mind if I take a few minutes to just sit here where it’s a bit quieter?”

I flash the ‘no’ and the ‘sir’. “Sometimes when a soldier gets hurt, when a teammate gets hurt, it’s hardest on the commanding officer.” He glances over at Dr. Jackson. “Colonel O’Neill has been on a bit of a rampage around here. I finally had to send him home.”

I scribble a message, fold it and shyly hand it to him. “Hmm,” he reads, then nods. “So he thinks he’s the one who shot Dr. Jackson? Major Ferretti said nearly the same thing. I told him it was just an accident, I don’t believe for one moment that anyone intentionally shot Dr. Jackson. It does explain quite a bit. Thank you, Captain, for your insight.” He rises and pats my arm in a gesture that reminds me quite sharply of my grandfather. “Good work, Captain.” 

He walks to the next bed, takes the seat Teal’c offers him and has a short, quiet conversation with the Jaffa before moving on to visit the rest of the infirmary patients.

*

My dinner tray has just been taken when Colonel O’Neill strides purposefully into the infirmary, going directly to Dr. Jackson’s bedside. He makes a point of studying all the machines attached to the patient before he looks over at me. Slumping in his chair, he comments, “I hear you ratted me out.”

I swallow, but hold up the ‘yes’, fumbling for the ‘sir’.

“I don’t really appreciate that, Captain.” He’s clearly still irritated.

A bit miffed myself, I write in big letters and flip the pad around. He gives a bit of a laugh at my ‘I don’t care!’

“Leave her alone, Jack,” we both hear the mutter from the bed between us.

Colonel O’Neill straightens up. “Daniel! Decided to join the living, have we?”

“Stop harassing Captain Carmichael, Jack.” It takes him a few breaths to get it out and the Colonel helps raise his bed up so that he isn’t lying flat anymore. “Not her fault.” He pauses, “Not yours either.”

The Colonel scrubs his hand through his short hair. “Dammit, Daniel! When I tell you to hit the ground, I damned well mean it!”

“Yes, sir,” he surprise me by snickering. I mean, he’s just a civilian and the Colonel is a colonel and he’s laughing at him.

“Colonel O’Neill, when were you going to inform me that my patient was awake?” Dr. Fraiser materializes at Dr. Jackson’s bedside.

O’Neill flushes just a bit and mutters, “Sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. Now I need to check my patient.” Colonel O’Neill stays seated. “I need some privacy.”

“I’ll pull the curtain.”

“You do that,” she pauses. “As long as you’re on the other side of it when you do.”

He complains and mutters under his breath but finally gives them some space. He starts out of the infirmary, but comes back to stand by my bed. “I’m glad you’re getting better. Are you going to rat on me every time I do something wrong?”

I grin, holding up the ‘yes’ and the ‘sir’.

“Yeah, that’s about what I expected from a damned Marine.” He grins, taking the sting out of the words as he peeks his head through the curtain, getting a yelp from Dr. Jackson and a sharp reprimand from Dr. Fraiser before he strides our of the infirmary.


End file.
